


Storms

by ThornWild



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rape, Romance, Sexual Abuse, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornWild/pseuds/ThornWild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When fourteen-year-old Daniel and his mother are kicked out by his stepfather, they move to a South London estate and Daniel has to change schools. He has a hard time making friends, and it only gets worse when his PE teacher takes a rather unhealthy interest in him. His only comfort, to his great surprise, turns out to be the last person he could have expected; the popular and gorgeous Michael Storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Daniel pulls on his jacket. ‘Mum, I’m off!’ he calls. There is no answer. He sighs and walks down the hall towards the kitchen. 

His mother is sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette. She is staring blankly out the window. 

‘Mum?’ says Daniel, softly.

She turns her head slowly. ‘Oh. Yes. Have a good day.’ She smiles, but it doesn’t really reach her eyes.

‘Yeah. Thanks,’ says Daniel, trying hard to smile back. 

He walks to schoool, dragging his feet. His new high school has not been kind to Daniel Hartman. He doesn’t know anyone, and has never been the best at making friends. Since his mother and he were forced to move, he had to change schools and leave his few friends behind. The commute would have been too expensive. 

School is only a ten minute walk from the estate where he lives, but that is also the only good thing about it. This is a rougher neighbourhood, and so are the people. He realised this very acutely in his first week when a group of year eleven boys cornered him in the loo and stuffed his head down the toilet.

Daniel doesn’t know what it is about him that makes other boys hate him so much. It’s as though they can just see that he’s different. It isn’t that he dresses any differently, or has a striking appearance. Daniel is fairly normal looking, with black curls, and chocolate skin. The only interesting thing about his physicality is his hazel eyes. His mother is Caribbean. Who his father was is anyone’s guess. He is slight for his age, but not tiny. Yet for some reason, other boys his age don’t like him. Maybe they can just smell that he’s gay.

Back in his old school he had some friends. Mostly girls, but a couple of boys as well. None of them have contacted him since he moved away, though. He supposes they are all busy.

It’s mid October, now. So far he has managed by keeping his head down and trying not to get noticed. Mostly people ignore him, but sometimes a few bullies take notice of him and follow him somewhere they can press money out of him or just kick him for laughs.

There is one exception. His name is Michael Storm. He is in the year above Daniel, tall and lean, with light brown hair and blue-green eyes. Michael is not a bully. Somehow, Michael has managed the impossible; to be a decent person and still be popular and well liked. God knows what Michael is even doing in this school. He lives literally a stone’s throw away, in a large, old house, with his parents and older sister. His parents are wealthy, and he is a good student, so he could have had his pick of any private school he liked. Yet he picked his local state school, and no one seems to know why.

Whenever Michael is nearby, nobody bothers Daniel, and Michael is the only person who ever smiles at him. Whenever Daniel passes him in a corridor, it’s as if Michael is telling him, ‘Cheer up! It might never happen!’

They have never actually had a conversation, of course, but Daniel is, and remains, madly in love.

Daniel had only been at school a couple of weeks when he started thinking about Michael in the shower. He imagines him naked or clothed, smiling or serious. He imagines kissing him, touching him and occasionally sucking him off. Or being sucked off by him, that one’s a particular favourite. Then he’ll stroke himself until he comes, gasping Michael’s name.

* * *

Monday before dinner is PE. Daniel has always been rubbish at it, but far worse than dropping the ball or being picked last for teams is the changing room afterwards. Which is why he’s so grateful that he doesn’t have to rush off for another lesson afterwards. Daniel usually hides in a corner until everyone else has gone, and only then takes off his clothes and gets in the shower. 

As the water pours over him, he thinks involuntarily about Michael and feels a familiar tightening in his abdomen. He sighs and looks down, willing the hard on to go away. This is neither the time nor the place. Still, he is alone…

He leans his forehead against the cold tile of the shower room wall and closes his eyes, letting his hand take care of business. He tries his hardest not to let the small whimpers escape his lips, but is not entirely successful, his strokes gaining vigour as he gets closer to the edge.

‘Michael…’ he mumbles.

Suddenly there’s a sound, and he lets go of himself, startled out of his reverie. He looks around.

Standing in the doorway to the shower room is the PE teacher, Steven Griffiths. He has an unreadable look on his face, and Daniel covers his cock with his hands, face flushing.

He doesn’t like Mr. Griffiths. He singles him out, ridiculing him when he makes a mistake, and makes the other students notice him more. Daniel wants most of all to be invisible.

‘Oh, my,’ says Mr. Griffiths, smiling now, but it’s not a very pleasant smile. ‘What on Earth are you doing?’

Not sure how to respond, Daniel stands still in the shower stream, staring.

Mr. Griffiths steps into the room, and Daniel backs into the wall as the older man comes closer.

Mr. Griffiths is tall, with blond hair and a tanned face and broad shoulders. His body is toned and he looks strong, and Daniel is afraid.

His teacher has reached him now. ‘Naughty boy,’ he tuts. ‘Think you can hide your shame from me? I saw you, and I heard you, too.’ Suddenly he’s grabbed Daniel’s left hand and pulled it away from his crotch, revealing his penis, which is still hard, although Daniel’s fear is causing it to shrink quicker than he would have thought possible.

‘Boys are so sex crazed at your age,’ says Mr. Griffiths, shaking his head. ‘Can’t control your impulses. Let me help you.’

And then he’s touching him, and Daniel feels suddenly sick, trying to flinch away, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s trapped in a corner of the shower room by this large man who’s fondling him, forcing a reaction that Daniel doesn’t want.

‘Oh look, you _do_ want it!’ Mr. Griffiths murmurs, watching Daniel’s cock expand again.

‘Please…’ Daniel whimpers. ‘Stop it!’

Mr. Griffiths responds by pushing him roughly into the wall and holding him there with his other hand.

Daniel sobs as he comes against his will, slumping down to the floor as Mr. Griffiths lets go of him. 

‘But this isn’t fair, is it? You’re getting yours and here am I,’ says Mr. Griffiths, and now Daniel is being pulled roughly to his feet again, and Mr. Griffiths has pulled down his own pants. ‘Touch it!’ he commands.

Daniel shakes his head. ‘You can’t…’ he begins.

‘Touch it now!’ Mr. Griffiths shouts, his voice echoing off the tiles. ‘I just made you come, is this the thanks I get? You wanted it, you came! You fucking loved it, you little bender! Now, put your hand on me!’

Daniel stares up at him, in utter shock, not moving a muscle. So Mr. Griffiths reaches down and grabs his hand and places it on his cock. Daniel feels like he’s going to vomit, or faint, but does neither. Mr. Griffiths has his hand in a vice-like grip, using it to stroke himself, uttering loud moans, and all Daniel can do is stare at his hand on that penis. Mr. Griffiths comes with a loud groan, his semen spilling into Daniel’s hand.

‘Good,’ he mutters. ‘Good boy. Very well done indeed. Keep up the good work.’

Then he turns around, and leaves. Daniel sinks to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

Later, he wonders how Mr. Griffiths dared do that. Isn’t he worried that Daniel will tell someone? And then he realises that he won’t. He has no one to tell. He feels ashamed and disgusted. Mr. Griffiths is right, after all. He came. He must have enjoyed it, somewhere deep inside.

* * *

Daniel spends the rest of the school day in a trance. When he gets home, he disappears into his room. He curls up in the foetal position on the bed and hyperventilates. He can’t get the image out of his mind, of his hand on the older man’s penis. It makes him feel sick and afraid. There was a promise in Mr. Griffiths’s words, like he’s not done with him yet. There’s more to come.

Daniel cooks bubble and squeak for his mother and himself for tea. His mother won’t come out of her room, so he takes a plate to her. She’s lying in bed with the curtains drawn, the room dark, but she’s awake. When he opens the door, she looks at him and smiles her sad smile, and thanks him and says she has a terrible headache, but some food will do her good.

He leaves her and returns to the kitchen, where he eats automatically. But when the plate is empty, his stomach churns and he only just about makes it to the loo before it all comes back up again. He coughs and splutters, and when he’s done vomiting, he brushes his teeth and goes to bed. There’s nothing else he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> Tea -- a hot meal served in the afternoon/evening (US: dinner)  
> Dinner -- a meal served around midday (US: lunch)  
> High school -- school attented at age 11-16  
> State school -- state run (or public) school  
> Year eleven -- final year of high school, and the year pupils take their GCSEs  
> Estate -- housing complex


	2. Chapter 2

A week passes, and Daniel dreads going to school even more than usual. Every day, he is afraid. He sometimes passes Mr. Griffiths in a corridor and the man winks at him. It leaves him with a sick, panicky feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He wonders frequently if he should tell someone what happened, but who would he tell? He has no one he can trust, and he still feels confused and afraid. Maybe it won’t happen again. He tries to believe that, and goes about his business as usual.

Now he’s back in PE. And, amazingly and confusingly, Mr. Griffiths seems to be a bit less hard on him than usual. Some voice in his head is saying, _Maybe it was all some kind of a mistake?_ And another voice says, _What, he tripped and accidentally put his penis in your hand?_

After the lesson, Mr. Griffiths says he’d like to see Daniel in his office, please. And Daniel follows him, his stomach threatening to turn inside out and a voice screaming in his head to get out, run off, go home.

Mr Griffiths locks the door behind them. He sits down behind the desk and gestures to the chair in the middle of the room.

‘So, Daniel, good news!’ he says brightly once Daniel is seated. ‘You’re improving considerably. Quite remarkable!’

Daniel shifts uncomfortably in the chair. ‘What do you mean?’ he asks slowly.

‘Well, you’re making such a great effort!’ says Mr. Griffiths. ‘Soon, I should think you’ll be one of the best pupils in my class. Congratulations.’ He smiles. 

Daniel blinks and looks away, waiting. He knows there’s more, but Mr. Griffiths is silent and smiling behind his desk. At last Daniel asks, ‘So, what’s the catch, then?’

‘Ah, smart boy,’ says Mr. Griffiths. ‘Knows you get nothing for nothing. But this will be a breeze, my boy, no big deal at all! All you have to do,’ he says, fixing his black eyes on Daniel’s hazel ones, ‘is take off your clothes.’

Daniel shakes his head. ‘No fucking way!’ he says. ‘I’ll take my chances, you can fail me.’

‘You think this is a polite request?’ asks Mr. Griffiths, his expression unchanged.

‘I can report you!’ says Daniel.

‘Can you, now?’ Mr. Griffiths leans back in his chair, looking amused. ‘Do you know how long I’ve worked here, Daniel?’ Daniel shakes his head. ‘Fifteen years, since I was fresh out of university. Do you know how long I’ve been doing this?’ Daniel says nothing and doesn’t move a muscle. Mr. Griffiths leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. ‘Just as long,’ he whispers. ‘And I’m still here. So, do you really think it’s that easy?’

He sits back again and stretches his arms out above his head with a groan. ‘You should feel honoured,’ he continues. ‘I’ve singled you out. One boy per year, or every couple of years, depending. On a very few occasions one’s lasted longer than that. And I’m not really asking you to do anything unpleasant; we already know each other very well.’ His eyes are glinting. ‘So, take your clothes off.’

Daniel shakes his head again.

Mr. Griffiths’s expression changes, but only for a moment. ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way, kid,’ he says. ‘It’s up to you. Your clothes will come off, one way or another.’

Daniel feels his hands begin to shake in his lap and his courage fails him. Looking away from Mr. Griffiths, he slowly starts to remove his t-shirt.

‘That a boy,’ says Mr. Griffiths calmly. He watches, smiling, as Daniel takes off his shorts, trainers and socks, and then, finally, his pants. His teacher pulls his mobile out of his pocket. Click. ‘Insurance,’ he whispers and returns the phone to his pocket. ‘Now, the real fun begins.’

‘B-but, you said—’

‘Oh, I say so many things, boy.’ Mr. Griffiths gets out of his chair and walks around Daniel, calmly inspecting him. ‘Touch yourself,’ he commands. Daniel hesitates. ‘Did you not hear me?’ Mr. Griffiths asks calmly. ‘I said, touch yourself!’ He barks the last two words. It is very clearly an order, and, ashamed, Daniel reaches down and grabs his own cock. He closes his eyes, trying to think of something else, something pleasant. If he doesn’t do as Mr. Griffiths says, he has a very real idea that the man will hurt him, and not just a little.

Michael’s face swims before his eyes, and he holds onto the image as he strokes himself, feeling himself go hard in spite of everything.

‘Oh, yes,’ says Mr. Griffiths’s voice, breaking the spell, and Daniel’s cock goes flaccid again. He tries to get it back, but it’s gone, and when he opens his eyes, he sees that Mr. Griffiths is standing right in front of him, his expression stony.

‘So, I’m a turn-off, am I?’

‘I—no,’ Daniel tries.

‘No, what?’

‘No, sir! I just…’

‘Performance anxiety?’

‘Yes! Yes, sir!’

Mr. Griffiths’s hand moves quicker than Daniel can react. The backhand blow strikes his shoulder, and it hurts. Daniel cries out in pain.

‘Don’t lie to me!’ Mr. Griffiths snarls. He grabs Daniel by the arm and pushes him over to the desk. ‘Bend over,’ he commands. Terrified, Daniel does as he’s told. He can hear Mr. Griffiths loosening his belt. The leather strikes his arse, sudden and hard, and Daniel cries out again. Mr. Griffiths smacks him again, once, twice, three, four times, then he stops.

‘On your knees, facing me,’ he commands. Daniel turns around and gets to his knees, and Mr. Griffiths pulls down his pants, once again revealing his erect penis. ‘Suck it,’ he says.

Daniel doesn’t dare hesitate and takes it into his mouth. It tastes revolting, of sweaty man and salt, and he’s afraid he’s going to vomit again, but forces himself to keep the bile down even as he feels it rise in his throat. Mr. Griffiths grabs his head in his hands, pulling his hair. He comes with a groan and a thrust, and the semen shoots into Daniel’s mouth. He can’t bring himself to swallow, and the thick substance spills out and down onto the floor. Mr. Griffiths pulls out and strikes him with the belt again, across the chest this time.

‘Next time, you will swallow,’ he says calmly. ‘Put your clothes back on and get yourself to the shower room and clean up.’

Before he reaches the showers, Daniel vanishes into the first loo he finds and vomits, unable to keep the bile down any longer. He doesn’t have dinner that day. Instead he hides in one of the stalls in the boys’ toilets and sobs quietly.

When break is nearly over, he opens the door and steps out of the stall. He steps up to the sink and stares at his reflection. His eyes are red and there are puffy bags under them. He blesses the tone of his skin that prevents his cheeks from getting too noticeably splotchy and red. He washes his face with cool water and takes a few deep breaths before turning towards the exit.

Just then the door opens, and Michael steps through it. Daniel’s heart skips a beat, and for a moment he can do nothing but stare.

Michael wears the black trousers and navy sweatshirt of the school uniform very well. His half long hair is mussed up and his green eyes are shining. His cheeks are a little bit red. He must have just been outside, maybe playing football or something. Daniel tries to look away, aware that he’s staring, but can’t seem to manage it.

Michael is either completely clueless or just kind, because rather than ask what Daniel is staring at, he simply smiles at him and says, ‘Hey.’

Daniel’s heart begins to thunder in his chest. This is the first time Michael has spoken to him! He opens his mouth to make some sort of response, but to begin with only a vague sort of rattling sound comes out. He swallows and tries again. ‘H—hi,’ he says lamely. 

Michael walks past him, towards the urinal, but then he stops, taking a step back and laying a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, and Daniel jumps.

‘You okay, mate?’ Michael asks. ‘You look a bit peaky.’

Daniel dares to look up at his face, and finds Michael studying him, brow slightly furrowed. He didn’t think it was possible for his pulse to increase further, but it does.

‘F-fine,’ Daniel manages. ‘I’m—I’m-m fine… Excuse me…’

He makes the decision to bolt from the room, but then everything goes black.

* * *

Daniel opens his eyes slowly. Fluorescent lights hit his optical nerve hard and he has to blink a few times before he can begin to look around.

He’s on his back on some sort of bed. The room has a distinctly sterile smell, like the dentist or the doctor’s. _Nurse,_ he thinks. _I must be in the school nurse’s office._

‘You’re awake!’ says a familiar voice, and Daniel’s eyes go wide. He turns his head to the right. Next to the bed, in a chair, sits Michael. There’s concern in his green eyes, but he’s still smiling. ‘Was wondering when you’d come to.’

Daniel tries to speak, but his throat is dry and he coughs. Michael reaches for a plastic cup on the bedside table and helps him sit up so he can drink.

‘You fainted,’ the older boy explains. ‘So I brought you to the nurse. She stepped out for a minute, should be back soon.’

Daniel swallows a mouthful of water. ‘I… fainted?’ he asks weakly. _Fan-bloody-tastic, Dan. Fainting in front of Michael Storm. Not pathetic at all…_

‘Yeah,’ is all Michael says. ‘You don’t have a fever or anything,’ he continues when Daniel says nothing. ‘Your blood pressure’s pretty low, though.’

Daniel nods. ‘I… uh, thanks,’ he manages. ‘I—’ A thought strikes him and he cocks his head to one side, looking at Michael. ‘Why are you here?’

The other shrugs. ‘Beats me,’ he confesses. ‘Seemed like the thing to do, I suppose. Seemed like you needed someone.’

Daniel turns his eyes down and stares at his hands. ‘You needn’t have bothered…’ he mumbles. ‘I’m okay, you should… I don’t need your—’

‘My pity?’ Michael interrupts. ‘You think that’s what this is?’ 

Daniel looks up at him again, and his heart sinks when he sees the look on Michael’s face. He is no longer smiling. His brow is furrowed in anger.

‘Wow, okay,’ he says. ‘Think what you want, Daniel, but I was actually trying to help you. I didn’t carry you all the way up here from the ground floor and wait for you to wake up out of charity. I did it cause it’s the decent thing to do.’

Upon hearing his name uttered from those lips, Daniel’s heart begins to race again, and he looks away. Michael really _is_ a decent bloke. _He really carried me here?_ But Michael’s words don’t help loosen the knot in Daniel’s stomach. He doesn’t want Michael to help him because it’s the decent thing to do. He wants him to help him because he likes him.

Michael stands up, apparently taking his silence for rejection. ‘Whatever,’ he says. ‘You’re awake now, so I guess you’re fine. Just don’t make a habit out of skipping dinner.’ He starts towards the door, but turns to him again before he leaves. ‘And the next time someone tries to be your friend, it might be a good idea to let them. I’ve noticed you don’t have an awful lot of those.’

Then he leaves, and Daniel wants to call after him, say he’s sorry. Thank him. But the words get stuck in his throat, and instead he lies back down on the bed, shielding his eyes from the fluorescent lights with the back of his hand. It’s probably better to just face the fact that he is and will remain alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The following week passes much the same way as the one before. Daniel passes Michael in the corridors a few times, and wants desperately to talk to him, but doesn’t dare to, and Michael appears to take little notice of him, though occasionally he thinks he’s caught the older student looking at him. Mr. Griffiths doesn’t speak to him either, which he is grateful for, but when Monday rolls around, Daniel gets a knot in his stomach and is filled with dread. Mr. Griffiths asks him to come to his office after class, where he makes Daniel undress and suck him off. Daniel does as he’s bid, swallows it down and, aside from the bruises on his shoulders where Mr. Griffiths’s strong fingers dug into his skin as he came, his teacher doesn’t hurt him so long as he obeys.

Daniel skips dinner, but amazingly holds down his breakfast. Later that day, though, as his thoughts drift in class he is suddenly and violently sick. He feels it coming and tries to bolt from the room, but is stopped by his teacher who wonders where on Earth he thinks he’s going, and before he can answer, he vomits on the door frame. He is sent home, with a note to his mother, which she never sees. She needn’t worry.

The next week is the same, and the next. As long as Daniel does what he’s told, Griffiths doesn’t hurt him. Not badly. Not physically, at least.

It is a Wednesday, and four weeks have passed this way. It’s dinner time. Daniel never liked school dinners at the best of times, but he has no appetite at all these days. Whenever he eats a significant amount of anything, it comes back up again, so mostly he sticks to snacking on fruit, crisps and biscuits whenever he gets too hungry. Daniel used to be a little soft around the middle. Now, he’s just skinny. He is hungry, though, so he tries to eat some cafeteria chips.

A shadow falls across his table. He looks up, expecting the worst, but it’s Michael Storm.

‘Hello,’ says Michael, smiling. ‘This seat free?’

Daniel doesn’t know what to say. His heart is in his throat. He nods.

Michael sits. He, too, is eating chips, along with something that calls itself chicken curry, but contains precious little actual chicken.

‘How are you feeling, Daniel?’ he asks in a friendly tone.

‘Er… fine,’ Daniel replies. A brief silence follows, and he bites his lip, looking away. ‘Look… I’m sorry about that time, I… I guess I just… I have a hard time trusting people.’

‘No, I’m the one who should be sorry,’ Michael replies. ‘You were obviously in a really bad place, I should have known it wasn’t about me. I’ve kind of been looking for a chance to apologise, it just… It was hard to find the words.’

Daniel smiles despite himself. ‘Find that hard to believe. You seem the type who’s good with words.’ He glances at the older boy. ‘I guess I just had a hard time believing you’d _want_ to be my friend.’

‘I find you interesting,’ says Michael simply. Daniel blushes, and feels immediately stupid.

‘I don’t see why,’ he mumbles, and just to have something to do he fills his mouth with chips.

‘I dunno,’ says Michael, ‘I just do. I’ve noticed you. You’re… different. Not like most people around here. But, then again, you’re not _from_ around here, are you?’

It’s a question, and Daniel is expected to answer it. He chews and swallows as best he can without choking. ‘Er,’ he says when his mouth is free again, ‘no, I’m not. We, uh… We had to move, from where we used to live, so… I had to change schools.’

‘Why did you have to move?’

‘Er…’ Daniel looks away. He doesn’t really want to answer.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Michael assures him, as if reading his mind. Then he changes the subject, asking about some band he likes and whether Daniel knows them. Daniel confesses that he doesn’t, but the conversation moves on to things that do interest him, and for the first time since moving, Daniel is having an honest to goodness conversation with someone his own age. He quite forgets not to have an appetite, and before he knows it, all the chips are gone, and they stay down.

* * *

Daniel has lunch with Michael on Thursday, too, and on Friday. He is introduced to a couple of friends of Michael’s. Two girls, named Siobhan and Amy, and a boy named Deacon. They’re nice to Daniel, and in their company, he manages to smile and laugh, and eat. 

But then Saturday arrives, and with nothing to distract him other than a couple of friendly texts from Michael, Daniel falls into familiar patterns. He cooks food for his mother, but hardly touches his own, and at night he can’t sleep as he starts to dread the coming Monday, and Mr. Griffiths’s office. On Sunday evening, he’s so hungry that he eats his tea far too quickly, and it all comes back up minutes later.

Monday morning, he walks to school in a trance, and his morning lessons go by in a blur. He was hoping he might run into Michael at some point. Seeing him would, he imagines, have given him some strength. But they don’t pass each other in the corridors, and soon he’s in PE. 

Surprisingly and discouragingly, Mr. Griffiths seems to be extra hard on him today, calling him out on every little mistake he makes and bullying him outright when he fails completely. He isn’t certain what it is he’s done to deserve his teacher’s wrath, but he becomes all the more nervous when Mr. Griffiths tells him to get dressed and then come to his office.

He steps inside, and Griffiths locks the door behind them as usual. Daniel shudders as the man turns to look at him, his expression unreadable as ever.

‘So,’ says Mr. Griffiths softly. ‘It has come to my attention that you have made a new friend.’

Daniel says nothing.

‘One Michael Storm, I gather?’

Again, Daniel remains silent.

‘I would advice you not to get too close to him,’ Griffiths continues. ‘It would be a terrible shame if he were to find out what a dirty little pervert you are… Here, let me show you something.’

He walks over to his desk, and gestures for Daniel to follow. On the desk is a laptop. Griffiths opens the lid and types in a password. Then he turns the laptop around so Daniel can see what’s on it.

 

_Looking for a piece of tight arse or a good blow job?_

_Call Daniel!_

 

Below the text is Daniel’s real phone number and the picture that Griffiths snapped of him the first time he was in his office. Of Daniel, naked in the chair. Daniel feels sick.

‘This website goes live if I deem you too friendly with Michael,’ says Griffiths. ‘Or anyone else, for that matter. I won’t stop you from sharing a table with him in the cafeteria, but if you get too close…’ He trails off, smiling. ‘You’re not allowed good friends.’

Daniel nods. ‘Yes, sir,’ he says. ‘I… okay.’

‘Good!’ says Griffiths. ‘That’s sorted, then.’ He steps out from behind the desk again and regards Daniel. ‘Now, I have something special in mind for today,’ he says. ‘Get undressed.’

Daniel does as he’s told automatically. Mr. Griffiths opens a cupboard to one side of the office and starts to rummage in it. Daniel feels the bile rise in his throat as his pulse increases. Whatever it is Griffiths has in mind, it can’t be good.

He strips down and turns around to see Mr. Griffiths pull an assortment of ropes and leather straps out of the cupboard. He looks Daniel up and down, evidently pleased. ‘Turn around,’ he says. Daniel does.

Griffiths grabs hold of both his wrists and ties them behind his back. The ropes dig into his skin painfully, and Griffiths ties a tight knot.

He pushes Daniel to his knees and ties a blindfold over his eyes. Daniel feels his body start to shake as the fear kicks in properly. Nothing happens for a moment. He hears Mr. Griffiths moving around. Then something makes contact with his back, hard. A whip, or something like it. He yelps in pain, and the next thing he knows, he feels a backhand blow to the side of his shoulder that almost sends him sprawling, but he manages to keep his balance.

‘Shut up,’ Griffiths whispers in his ear. ‘You are not to scream. You are to keep quiet.’

Daniel clenches his teeth, anticipating the next blow. When it comes, he gasps, but he does not scream. The one after that is to his chest, however, and this time he whimpers.

‘Shut up, I said,’ says Griffiths softly. ‘Why is it you can never do as you’re told? Well? Apologise!’

‘I’m… I’m sorry, sir,’ Daniel manages. ‘Sorry…’

Griffiths hits him again and again, and every time Daniel tries not to scream, and every time a whimper or a yelp escapes and Griffiths hits harder, striking his back, his chest, his arse, his stomach. Tears are streaming down his face now, and he is shivering and shaking, barely able to keep himself up on his knees. 

Then the blows stop, and Griffiths grabs hold of his hair roughly.

‘Open your mouth,’ he says, and Daniel does. Griffiths’s cock invades his mouth and Daniel nearly chokes, but he tries to breathe through his nose.

It doesn’t last long, however, and Griffiths doesn’t come.

‘That’s enough of that, I think,’ says Griffiths, pulling Daniel to his feet, and Daniel wonders if he’s going to untie him now, but instead he is roughly pushed forward. The wind is knocked out of him as Griffiths pushes him down onto the desk, face first.

He can feel Griffiths coming up behind him, grabbing his buttocks and pulling them apart. He shoves a finger roughly into Daniel’s hole, and Daniel gasps. Then comes another finger, and another, and Daniel feels his whole body clench.

Griffiths leans over him, his lips brushing his ear. ‘Now,’ he whispers, his weight bearing down on Daniel. ‘Don’t scream.’

Then he plunges inside, and the sheer pain of it stuns Daniel into silence. He can’t seem to draw breath as Griffiths thrusts deep inside him, pushing at his insides, it feels like. Daniel is sure something has ruptured back there and manages to draw breath and, in spite of his teacher’s warnings, he cries out in pain. Griffiths has his hips in a vice-like grip, but now he lets go with one hand that he instead places over Daniel’s mouth, clamping down so he can hardly breathe. 

He thrusts harder and faster, in and out, and Daniel screams properly into his hand, his body shaking with sobs. The pain is overwhelming. He just wants it to stop. This is all wrong. This isn’t what it’s meant to be like. Sex is supposed to be something good, something wonderful, something he could do with Michael, or someone like him, and now this man, this monster, is spoiling it all.

Griffiths begins to grunt and to groan, his vocalisations increasing in volume as he thrusts harder and then, suddenly, it’s over.

Griffiths pulls out, and Daniel feels something dripping from his arse. Whether it’s shit, blood or cum or a mix of the three, he can’t be sure. He lies bent over the desk, sobbing and gasping for air. Then Griffiths unties the blindfold and the rope around his wrists.

‘Get dressed!’ he barks. 

Daniel finds his uniform and, shaking and shivering, pulls it on. He can’t seem to stop sobbing. His face is wet and everything hurts. Then Griffiths unlocks the door and pushes him out. He feels the bile rising in his throat and knows he’s going to vomit, and so he runs for a bathroom as quickly as he can.

Daniel vomits until there’s nothing left, and then he dry heaves for a few minutes, before sinking down into the foetal position, his face streaked with tears.

He hears a noise, but doesn’t even turn his head to see who it is. He doesn’t care. Nothing the bullies can do to him can possibly compare to what Griffiths has put him through.

But it’s not a bully who speaks. ‘Daniel?’

Daniel’s eyes widen. No! He can’t see him like this!

‘Daniel, are you all right? Are you ill again?’

And before Daniel can react, there is Michael, sitting next to him, lifting him up to a sitting position, looking into his eyes with a concerned expression.

‘Do you need a doctor?’ he asks.

‘No!’ Daniel cries at once. ‘Please, can you just… go away…’

‘Did someone do something to you? Did one of the guys hurt you?’ Michael’s brow his furrowed, but he speaks calmly, softly. ‘Tell me who, I’ll make them stop.’

‘You can’t ever make him stop…’ Daniel whispers, and then he’s crying. 

Michael holds him to him, then, not seeming to care that he’s getting snot, tears and vomit on his sweatshirt. He holds him, and strokes his hair, and just sits there, not saying anything.

After a few moments Daniel’s sobbing ceases. Michael cups his chin in his hand and turns his face so he can see it. He studies Daniel’s features intently, searching his eyes.

‘You should probably go home,’ he says. ‘Is there someone there who can look after you?’

Daniel gives a short, humourless laugh then. ‘My mum doesn’t look after me, I look after her.’

Michael sighs. ‘Well, she’ll just have to do without you today, then. You’re coming home with me.’

‘What?’ Daniel splutters. ‘I’m sorry, thank you and all for the offer, but I need to get home to my mum…’

‘You _need_ someone to look after you,’ says Michael emphatically. ‘If your mother can’t do that, I will. You can ring her and let her know where you are, but I’m not letting you go home by yourself if there’s no one to help you there.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary: 
> 
> Chips -- french fries  
> Crisps -- potato chips


	4. Chapter 4

Daniel has never been inside Michael’s house before. He feels compelled to take off his shoes so he won’t muddy the marble floor of the hall, and he doesn’t dare touch anything. There are floral arrangements in fine china vases on end tables and side boards, and the wallpaper looks silken and expensive.

Michael has got him by the hand and leads him through the hall and up the stairs.

‘Won’t your parents mind?’ asks Daniel, weakly.

‘They’re not at home. It’s just my sister and I.’

‘Oh,’ says Daniel, not knowing what else to say.

Michael stops outside a door in a corridor that looks every bit as fancy as the hall downstairs, with crimson carpeting and green wallpaper. He knocks on the door.

‘Yeah?’ comes a female voice from inside.

‘Hey, Liz,’ says Michael through the door, ‘I’ve got a friend over, he’s staying the night. Thought you’d like to know.’

‘All right,’ she replies. ‘Play nice. You guys want pizza? Or Chinese or something?’

Michael looks at Daniel questioningly. He shrugs.

‘Whatever you want,’ says Michael. ‘Not sure we’ll be wanting much food, anyway; might just grab some toast later.’

‘Well, I’ll order some extra szechuan in case you change your minds,’ says Liz’s voice. ‘Hang on, I’d like to meet your friend, lemme get dressed…’

‘No, not now, Liz,’ says Michael, and Daniel feels grateful. ‘It’s been a rough day. I’ll introduce you later.’

They continue down the corridor and Michael opens a door at the end.

His room is gorgeous. It’s decorated in soft shades of blues and greens; it’s a boy’s room, but it’s tidy and tasteful. He’s got an electronic drum kit in the corner, next to his computer, a monster of a gaming tower with two twenty-three inch screens. His bed is large and wide, and looks soft and comfortable. There’s a television, a stereo, a small sofa, a large closet, and a door off to one side, slightly ajar, which appears to lead to an en suite bathroom.

Daniel remains standing in the middle of the room, not sure what to do with himself.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ says Michael helpfully. ‘D’you want a cup of tea or anything?’

‘Yes, please,’ Daniel says automatically.

‘I’ll go make us some,’ says Michael. He takes off his sweatshirt, which is flecked with vomit and snot, and tosses it into the hamper by the wardrobe. Daniel catches a glimpse of his creamy stomach and looks away quickly. ‘How about you ring your mum in the meantime?’

‘My battery’s flat,’ says Daniel.

Michael reaches into his pocket and pulls out his mobile phone. ‘Here, use mine,’ he says, tossing it to Daniel, who catches it.

After Michael leaves the room, Daniel sits down on the sofa, staring at the phone for a few moments before dialling the eleven digits. He has to try again twice as he keeps going to voicemail. On the third try, his mother finally picks up the phone.

‘It’s Daniel,’ he says. ‘Sorry, my battery’s dead.’

‘Oh.’ There’s a brief silence.

‘I’m at a friend’s house,’ Daniel says after a moment. ‘His name’s Michael. He’s invited me to stay the night.’

‘Is he a friend from school?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s nice,’ says his mother. ‘You should invite him over here some time.’

‘Yeah, I’ll do that,’ Daniel replies, completely sure that he shall never do any such thing. More silence. ‘Will you be okay?’ he asks finally.

‘Of course. I’ll be fine.’

The door opens, and Michael comes back inside with a tray carrying a teapot, two mugs, a bowl of sugar and a small jug of milk.

‘You let me know if you need anything, all right?’ says Daniel urgently to his mother. ‘If you need me to come home, I’ll come home.’

‘Danny, I’ll be fine,’ she insists. ‘Have a good time.’

They say goodbye and Daniel hangs up. 

Michael sets the tray down on his desk. He glances at Daniel, frowning, his lips pursed.

‘She’s supposed to be _your_ parent, not the other way around,’ he says finally, pouring tea into the mugs. ‘Do you take milk or sugar?’

‘Just milk, please,’ says Daniel. ‘She can’t really help it… She’s ill.’ Michael hands him his mug. It’s got blue elephants on it. Daniel takes a sip. ‘It’s all been going downhill since my stepdad left. It was going downhill before that, too… He wasn’t very nice to her. Or to me.’

He’s not sure why he’s telling Michael this, but the other boy inspires confidence in him. Michael pours a bit of milk into his own tea and stirs in a spoon of sugar thoughtfully. Then he sits down next to Daniel.

‘What about your real dad?’ he asks. 

‘No such thing,’ says Daniel. ‘Dunno who he is. Some random bloke, a one-night stand who never left a phone number. So there’s just me and mum.’

‘It’s not right,’ says Michael, shaking his head. ‘You’re fourteen, your mum should be taking care of you.’

‘Well, I’ve managed so far,’ says Daniel.

‘Not so well, it seems,’ Michael retorts. He sighs. ‘I’m sorry, that wasn’t meant to sound so harsh.’

‘It’s okay,’ says Daniel quickly. ‘Tell you the truth, I can’t believe you’re even talking to me.’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’

‘You see anyone else who’s eager to strike up a conversation?’ Daniel asks.

‘Meh. They’re arseholes,’ says Michael.

They sit quietly for a while, sipping tea. Daniel’s heart is pounding and he’s feeling a little sick again. When they’re not talking, the afternoon’s events slip back into his brain. But he manages to keep his tea down all the same.

‘So, you’ve got a sister?’ he says at last, somewhat desperate for something else to think about.

‘Yeah, Liz. Elizabeth.’ Michael smiles. ‘She studies journalism at Kingston. We’ve always been really close.’

‘Are your parents away a lot?’

‘A bit. My dad’s job occasionally requires him to go on business trips, and sometimes he brings my mum so she can get a break. She volunteers with charity organisations, holds charity auctions, trying to squeeze money out of rich folk for starving kids in Africa and the like,’ Michael explains. ‘Makes her happy. She used to be a big career woman, lawyer, but my dad makes enough money for the both of them now, and she feels like she can do more good in the world this way. She goes away on her own, too, sometimes, to help build a well in an African village or attend peace conferences.’

‘That’s nice,’ says Daniel. He bites his lip. ‘They good parents?’ he asks awkwardly.

‘Yeah,’ says Michael. ‘I mean, they’re all right. They’re together, happily married, and just that’s quite a feat, really.’

Daniel feels suddenly jealous. ‘Wish I had a family like yours,’ he says.

‘It’s not all roses,’ Michael says, shrugging. ‘They do travel a lot, so it’s just me and Liz a lot of the time.’ He finishes his tea and gets up. ‘You can get a shower, if you want,’ he says. ‘I’ll find you a spare toothbrush, and I’m sure I have some old clothes that might fit you lying around somewhere. There are towels under the sink.’ He smiles. ‘Like I said, make yourself at home.’

Daniel goes into the bathroom and closes the door, but he doesn’t lock it. He feels safe, knowing that Michael is out there, and he doesn’t really want to be alone.

He takes off his clothes. His sleeves are stained with vomit, and he discovers shit and blood in his pants. He doesn’t want Michael to see _that_ , and vows to clean them in the sink when he gets out of the shower. Right now, he just wants to get clean, to scrub it all away.

He gets into the tub and turns on the shower, making the water as hot as he can muster. It makes the cuts and bruises on his torso throb. He scrubs and scrubs at his body with soap, as if cleansing his skin will cleanse his mind. The hot water stings as it pours down his lower back to where he is raw and bloody still, and unbidden memories stream into his head, of Griffiths, standing behind him, thrusting, groaning. Of the back of his hand striking him, of the ropes cutting into his wrists, of the whip on his back. He tries to choke back the sob, but it spills forth as a desperate whimper and he can’t stop the tears. He sinks down to his knees, unable to prevent the panic from washing over him.

There’s a knock on the door.

‘Daniel, are you okay?’ Michael must have heard his sobs. ‘Daniel?’

He wants to answer, tell Michael he’s fine and to go away, but as he opens his mouth all that escapes it is another whimper.

‘I’m coming in!’ says Michael, his voice urgent.

’N—no, don’t…’ Daniel moans. ‘P…p-please…’

But Michael has already opened the door. He sees Daniel in the bathtub, sees the bruises on his body, sees the mess of clothes on the floor, and the blood. He strides across the room, grabbing a fluffy, blue terrycloth towel off a hook on the wall on the way. When he reaches Daniel in the tub, he turns off the shower and wraps the towel around him. He helps him out of the tub onto the floor. Sobbing uncontrollably, Daniel clings desperately to Michael, and Michael wraps his arms around him, holding him close. 

He guides him back out into the bedroom and sits them both down on the sofa. Then he just holds him, and lets him cry.

It takes a long while, perhaps as much as half an hour, before Daniel’s sobs cease. He feels empty and exhausted and lost, but Michael is still holding him.

‘I…’ Daniel’s voice quivers and he clears his throat. ‘I’m sorry…’

‘What are you sorry for?’ asks Michael, sounding almost angry. ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for!’ And he holds him even tighter, stroking his back. ‘My God, what did they _do_ to you, Danny?’

Daniel is surprised. No one but his mother ever calls him Danny, but it rolls easily off Michael’s tongue, as if he’s always called him that.

‘I… I wish I could tell you…’ But he can’t. He can never tell anyone. Mr. Griffiths will let everyone know his secret. Michael will find out. If Michael finds out, he’ll never speak to him again. Griffiths has friends, everyone will believe him, and he’ll just hurt Daniel more. And Daniel feels filthy and ashamed. He doesn’t want anyone to know. They can’t know. He’s weak. He liked it, in the shower. He must have liked it, because he came.

Michael releases him and holds him at arm’s length, studying his face. ‘Who is it?’

Daniel shakes his head and looks away from those green eyes. ‘I can’t…’

Michael nods. ‘Okay,’ he says and doesn’t press the matter further. Instead, he gets up, and hands Daniel a pile of clothes that were lying on the bed. Then, calm as anything, he goes into the bathroom and gathers up Daniel’s filthy clothes. Daniel feels embarrassed and ashamed, but Michael puts the clothes in a plastic bag and tells Daniel that he’s going to put them in the washing machine. Then he leaves Daniel to get dressed.

* * *

They pass the evening playing video games and Daniel even manages to eat some Chinese food when Liz comes knocking. Liz looks a lot like her younger brother. She is tall and slender, with brown hair and green eyes, and a sweet smile. Michael introduces them, but tells Liz that Daniel’s not really well, but that he can’t be at home, and maybe they can do the pleasantries some other time? Liz nods in understanding, hands over two styrofoam containers and bids them good night. 

When it becomes time for bed, Michael begins making up the sofa for himself and tells Daniel he can have his bed.

‘I can’t do that,’ says Daniel. ‘It’s your bed.’

Michael insists, however, and without thinking, Daniel blurts out, ‘Well, it’s a big bed; we can both sleep in it.’ The moment he’s said it, he wonders if Michael is going to laugh at him or call him queer, or throw him out, and he begins to feel sick again. 

But Michael doesn’t do any of those things. Instead he smiles and says, ‘Sure, if you’re comfortable with that, that’s fine with me.’

Daniel’s sleep is uneasy, full of nightmares of Griffiths, and he wakes up, sweating and shaking, and just barely makes it to the loo before vomiting between panicked sobs. He soon feels a hand on his back, though, stroking him soothingly.

‘Let it out,’ says Michael kindly. ‘There, you’re all right. It’s all right.’

When Daniel is done, Michael helps him over to the sink so he can brush his teeth. Then he flushes the toilet, washes his hands and finds a flannel in the cupboard that he soaks in cold water and proceeds to mop Daniel’s brow, face and neck with.

He helps him back to bed and then lies down next to him, draping an arm protectively over him, and strokes his hair until he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> Pants -- underwear


	5. Chapter 5

When Daniel wakes up, at first he feels confused. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but he’s filled with a warm, safe and comfortable sensation that he hasn’t felt in a very long time. He tests his eyes, lifting his eyelids very slowly. He blinks a few times and the room slips into focus. 

Michael’s room. The curtains have been drawn away a little bit, and a sliver of sunlight has entered the chamber.

Daniel is alone in the big bed, but when he reaches out to touch the space next to him he finds it still warm. Then there’s the sound of a toilet flushing, and the door to the bathroom opens. 

Michael stands there, shirtless and with wet hair, nothing but a towel wrapped around his middle. The bathroom light behind him makes him appear to be almost glowing, like some kind of angel. 

‘Oh, you’re awake!’ he says with a smile.

Daniel rubs his eyes to stop himself from staring and sits up a little further, yawning. ‘Yeah…’ he says. ‘Morning.’

‘Good morning.’ Michael moves over to the closet and starts searching for clothes. Daniel stares at his back, at the muscles moving beneath the taught, creamy skin, and shudders a little bit. He’s finding it hard to believe that he slept in this boy’s bed. Not that anything happened, but still…

Having completed his search, Michael drops the towel to pull on a pair of pants, and Daniel promptly looks away, painfully aware of his morning hard-on. Michael, it would seem, is not shy.

‘E—excuse me,’ Daniel mumbles, and gets out of bed, hurrying towards the bathroom.

‘Hey, Dan,’ says Michael, and yet again it strikes Daniel how easily his name and his nicknames roll off Michael’s tongue, as if they’ve always known each other. He halts, not turning around.

‘Yeah?’

‘Your clothes should be all clean and dry and fluffy. I’ll go get them when I’ve finished dressing, okay?’

‘Yeah. Thanks. Thank you for… for everything.’

He can hear the other move closer. ‘Hey, no problem. I’m… I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more.’ Daniel feels a hand on his shoulder, and his breath catches in his throat. ‘You feeling okay?’ Michael asks.

‘Yeah. I’m… yeah. Better.’ Daniel glances over his shoulder and tries to smile.

‘You don’t have to be brave,’ says Michael softly. ‘You’re safe here. I’m your friend.’ He tugs a little at Daniel’s shoulder, and against his better judgment Daniel turns around to face him. ‘You can lean on me.’ Michael puts his arms around him and hugs him, and Daniel doesn’t ever want that hug to end. He may be safe here, but out there… If Griffiths finds out about this somehow, there will be hell to pay.

‘Thank you…’ Daniel murmurs.

* * *

Daniel is unused to eating breakfast by now, but manages a piece of toast all the same. Then he and Michael walk to school together. It makes the dreaded distance a little less ominous than usual. Michael lives about the same distance from school as Daniel, but on the other side. Luckily, none of the other pupils know where Daniel lives, so arriving together shouldn’t seem suspicious, unless Griffiths sees them. He is nowhere to be seen, however, and Daniel’s stomach does not start to twist until Michael bids him farewell at the gates and vanishes off to class.

The day passes as most Tuesdays, however, and come dinnertime he sits with Michael and his friends again.

‘Did you get in trouble for leaving yesterday?’ Daniel asks Michael quietly as they dump their trays.

‘Nah,’ replies Michael under his breath. ‘I just told them I got sick and had to leave. How about you?’

‘Same. They were pretty nice about it, but then I have been sick a lot lately.’

‘Yeah, you should stop that,’ says Michael jokingly. ‘Silly thing to do, being sick all the time.’

Daniel smiles. 

The following day, Daniel wakes up feeling okay. All things considered, he slept well and feels rested enough. He runs into Michael twice before dinner, and once after, at which point the older boy informs him that his birthday is coming up, and that there’s going to be a party the coming Saturday, and would he liked to come? Daniel accepts happily.

The day is almost over when he receives a text in class. It’s from a number he doesn’t recognise.

_Come here, right now. G._

His stomach drops, and Daniel feels his body begin to shake. There is no doubt in his mind of whom ‘G’ is. He’s never done anything like this before. It’s new, and it frightens him. Daniel glances at the clock. He has a feeling Griffiths isn’t kidding when he writes ‘right now’. He raises his hand.

‘May I be excused?’ he asks quietly.

‘What for?’ his teacher demands.

‘I… I need the loo,’ Daniel mumbles. 

‘Can’t you hold it for ten minutes?’ the teacher asks.

‘No,’ Daniel whispers.

‘Sorry? Speak up!’

Daniel draws a breath. ‘I… I guess I can…’

The moment the bell rings, Daniel grabs all his things and fairly runs down the corridors to Mr. Griffiths’s office. He stops outside, heart pounding in his chest. This is in no way where he wants to be right now.

He knocks on the door.

‘Come in,’ a voice answers, and Daniel enters.

‘Ah, Daniel. Good.’ Griffiths is seated behind his desk, reclining leisurely in his chair. ‘Lock the door, please,’ he says. Daniel does as he is bid, perhaps taking a bit longer than necessary. Then he draws a deep breath and turns to face his teacher again.

Griffiths studies him for a moment. ‘You’re late,’ he says finally.

‘I know, sir. Sorry, sir,’ Daniel mumbles, eyes fixed on a point on the desk in front of the man.

Griffiths remains still, and Daniel continues to stare at the desk, afraid to move, to make a sound.

‘Strip,’ Griffiths commands. Daniel does as he is told, dropping his bag on the floor, and strips down, one garment at a time. 

‘Lateness will not be tolerated,’ says Griffiths. ‘I’m sure you understand that.’

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Daniel tries again. ‘Miss Lawrence wouldn’t… She wouldn’t let me leave…’

‘That’s no excuse!’ Griffiths roars, and Daniel jumps halfway out of his skin, stopping what he’s doing with his trousers down around his knees, his eyes snapping up to the man’s red and furious face. ‘I don’t care how you do it. When I tell you to come to me, you come to me! Make up an excuse, say you’re ill, make yourself sick, I don’t give a fuck! But you are to come here when I tell you to, is that clear, you sad, pathetic excuse for a human being?’

Daniel nods, eyes still wide. ‘Y–y–yes, s–sir,’ he stutters. ‘I… Yes, I’ll–I’ll d–do better…’

‘And who told you to stop stripping?’ 

Daniel blinks and then returns to his task with shaking hands, almost tripping himself as he tries to rid himself of his trousers and socks.

‘You will _not_ disobey me again, boy,’ says Griffiths in a deadly hiss. ‘You do as I say, when I say it, or you _will_ be punished. It is not wise to upset me. I think you understand that.’

‘I… I do, sir,’ Daniel says, his voice barely audible. 

‘Not well enough, apparently.’ Griffiths’s voice is soft now. 

Daniel slows his movements, slipping his thumb into the waistband of his pants before pulling them off. He shivers. ‘Wha—What do you mean?’ he asks. ‘Sir!’ he adds hurriedly.

‘Well, there’s the lateness, for one thing.’ Griffiths stands up from his seat and steps around the desk. Daniel stares straight ahead at nothing. ‘Also, I gave your mum a little ring today.’ Griffiths closes the distance, and touches Daniel’s cheek gently. Daniel’s heart rate doubles and he stands petrified. ‘Just for a little chat, you know… She was ever so happy to hear from me. Your _favourite_ teacher. And she told me something very interesting. That you spent the night at a _friend’s house_ night before last.’ He pauses, stroking Daniel’s cheek with his thumb, and Daniel feels his body begin to shake again. ‘One Michael Storm?’

Daniel shuts his eyes tight, trying to prevent the sob threatening to burst forward.

‘Are you denying it? Because I shan’t tolerate lies, you know.’

Daniel shakes his head. ’N–no, sir… I… It’s… It’s true…’

Suddenly, Griffiths’s hand is at his throat, squeezing. ‘So,’ he murmurs, bringing his face so close to Daniel that their noses almost touch, ‘you went against my specific instructions, and slept over at Michael’s house. And you thought, what, that I wouldn’t find out?’

Daniel gags, trying desperately to apologise, to say anything, but he can’t form words. At last, Griffiths releases him and he falls to the floor, coughing so hard he thinks he might be sick.

Griffiths picks up his trousers and rummages through the pockets for his mobile. ‘Dear… mum,’ he says as he types. ‘Spending… night… at Michael’s… again. I will… see… you… tomorrow.’ Then he leans on the desk, watching Daniel where he’s crouched in the foetal position. A moment later, Daniel’s mobile buzzes, and Griffiths looks at it. ‘Aww! How sweet! She writes, “That’s great! Have a good time. Love you.”’ He looks at Daniel again, grinning. ‘Your mum’s a real sweetheart, isn’t she? And I seem to recall she’s fairly pretty, in that heroin chic sort of way… She can’t have been very old when you were born, eh, kid? Think I could get in there?’

Daniel glares up at him through bleary eyes. ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ he growls, but the growl turns to a cough and before he can stop it or swallow it down, he’s vomiting all over the floor.

Griffiths chuckles. ‘Now what did I say about disobeying me? I believe that firmly goes in the category of disobedience, don’t you, Daniel?’

‘Go to hell!’ says Daniel harshly, wiping his mouth.

‘That’s the spirit!’ laughs Griffiths. ‘It’s okay, I’ll let that one slide. There are limits to the amount of punishment I can dish out in one night.’ He glances at his watch. ‘In about half an hour, the entire building will be empty, and then no one will be able to hear you scream. Now, clean that up.’

* * *

Daniel is gagged and tied to a chair. He watches as Griffiths bustles about the office, clearing his desk and getting things out of drawers. He covers the desk neatly in a plastic sheet. Then he finds four sets of handcuffs and attaches one set to each of the sturdy legs. He hums cheerily to himself as he does this. Finally, he sets up a video camera on a tripod. Then he halts, looking at Daniel as though he’s forgotten he was there. He kneels before the chair and takes Daniel’s head in his hands. 

‘Tonight,’ he says softly, ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to believe it. You won’t be able to walk, or think, or speak. I’m gonna make you scream. I’m gonna hurt you, little Danny, and I’m going to enjoy it. This is what happens when you disobey me. And if I ever catch you doing it again, believe me when I say that this is going to seem like a cosy, romantic outing compared to what else I can do to you.’

Daniel hates that he called him ‘Danny’. The nickname that sounded so right when Michael used it sounds wrong, harsh and guttural coming from this man. His whole body is shaking again, and tears start to flow freely down his face.

Griffiths unties him from the chair. ‘Get on the desk,’ he commands. ‘Lie down on your back.’ Daniel does as he’s told. He’s still gagged, and he makes no attempt to remove it. It’s safer this way. He wants to spit on Griffiths. Wants to puke on him. But he’s afraid. He’s terrified of what the older man will do to him. He is absolutely certain that this person would have no problem killing him if he thought he might be a problem. Nor would he find it difficult to dump the body in the Thames and burn all his things. It would be like he was never here, and no one would suspect Mr. Griffiths, the charismatic PE teacher.

So he lies down on his back on the table, and doesn’t move a muscle while Griffiths cuffs him to it, hands and feet, so he’s spread-eagled on the desk. Then Griffiths attaches a pair of clamps to his nipples. Daniel groans with pain into the gag. Next, Griffiths begins to fiddle with his genitals. Daniel can’t see what he’s doing. He’s not sure he wants to know, but then comes a sharp pain, and a tightness, and he realises that Griffiths is tying up his junk, squishing it together. Daniel cries out against the gag.

When he’s finished, Griffiths finally ungags him. ‘There, you’re all ready,’ he says softly. ‘Ready for your punishment. Are you comfortable?’

Daniel just glares up at him, refusing to speak. Griffiths walks away from him, to a cupboard. ‘You know,’ he says as he moves, ‘some of them start to like it. They learn to cherish our time together. To love me, even. Like Stockholm Syndrome.’ He rummages in the cupboard. ‘That’s the goal. To break you until you like it.’ He turns back towards Daniel, a riding crop in his hand. ‘Of course, some never do. They mostly just off themselves.’ He approaches the desk, flexing the riding crop in his hands. ‘Tell me, Danny. Are you a survivor?’


	6. Chapter 6

Daniel is shivering on the cold tiles. Griffiths spent hours hurting him, just as he promised. He beat him with the riding crop, fingerfucked him brutally, pulled at the nipple clamps… He sat on his chest and wanked off on his face, scratched him with his nails and punched him in the gut. And when Daniel had screamed his throat sore and thought he couldn’t take any more, Griffiths pulled him forward so his bottom rested on the edge of the desk, the cuffs digging painfully into his wrists, and fucked him, hard, holding out longer than Daniel would have thought anyone could. He must have been at it for over half an hour by the time he finally came. Whenever Daniel tried to look away, Griffiths would turn his face towards him, and if he tried to shut his eyes, block it out, Griffiths would hit him, pull at his junk or tighten the nipple clamps until he opened them again. All the while, he spoke to him, saying awful things to him, calling him names. Describing in excruciating detail exactly what he would do next. 

When it was over, some time just before midnight, Griffiths released him from the cuffs and flung him into the bathroom, taking the key and locking the door from the outside. Then he left. 

Daniel is naked. His clothes are outside in the office. The bathroom has no windows, only cold, white tile. Griffiths turned out the lights, leaving him in near-total darkness. Daniel still managed to navigate to the shower and clean himself off, though Griffiths turned off the hot water before he took off. Now Daniel is wet and freezing, but Griffiths is gone, and there’s a blissful sort of quiet here. He’s exhausted, and drifts in and out of sleep for the first hour or so. Then he must have fallen asleep properly, because the next time he comes to, it’s less dark. There’s sunlight beaming in from under the door.

A little while later, the door is unlocked and Griffiths tosses him his uniform. He doesn’t speak a word to him, but watches while he gets dressed. Daniel tests his legs. His arse screams with pain as he tries to walk. Griffiths doesn’t stop him as he limps towards the door, but when he stretches out a hand towards the handle, the older man clears his throat. Daniel halts, letting his hand fall to his side.

‘One moment, boy,’ he says. ‘Just a couple of things. First, it probably goes without saying, but you are to terminate your friendship with Michael. Not too suddenly or obviously, but you need to push him away. Well?’

‘Y–yes, sir,’ Daniel croaks, his throat still sore.

‘Good. Secondly, you have bruises around your throat. Wear this.’

Daniel turns, and Griffiths thrusts a scarf at him. It’s dark blue, nothing special. Daniel puts it on, slowly. He discovers with revulsion that it smells like Griffiths.

‘Good. That’s all. You can go. I won’t call on you for a couple of days. Most likely, you won’t see me until Monday.’

Daniel nods. ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’ Then, at long last, he leaves that room.

* * *

Walking to class that morning, Daniel notices that people are sniggering at him. He thinks, at first, that it’s because of his limp. They’re laughing because they think someone beat him up, which he supposes is true, in a way. But as he reaches his classroom, it becomes apparent that this is not the case.

On the door is an A3 poster. It features a picture of Daniel, the one Griffiths took of him, but from the waist up only, and the text, _Hello, my name is Danny. I like taking it up the arse._

It’s lucky, he supposes, that his stomach is completely empty, or he thinks he might just be sick again. He just stands there for a moment, staring blankly at the poster, mouth agape. Then he comes to his senses and begins to tear it down.

Around him, people are laughing as he tears the poster to pieces, sobbing.

‘Oh, Danny!’ says a sing-song voice, and he stops, looking over his shoulder. It’s one of the year eleven boys who like to torment him. He thinks his name is Patrick. ‘Little Danny boy! Come over here and I’ll give you one!’ His friends snigger.

Daniel’s arms drop to his sides, and the shredded remains of the poster fall to the floor. This must all be part of Griffiths’s punishment. Perhaps he’s hoping that Michael will be too embarrassed to even try to be his friend anymore. Perhaps he’s right.

Hot, angry tears fall from Daniel’s eyes. Griffiths is taking everything from him, he realises. Granted, there’s not much to take away. But Michael is the one good thing he has, and Griffiths won’t even let him keep that.

The laughter around him grows louder, and now he’s bolting, running towards the nearest toilet. On the way, he sees more posters, and he tears them all down, leaving a trail of torn paper in his wake. When he reaches the toilets, he rushes inside. Taped to the mirror is another poster. His face stares out at him, an expression of fear, humiliation and loathing on it. Rather than tear it down, Daniel sinks to the floor. How much can a single person be expected to tolerate, he wonders? How much before he cracks? And will he be one of the ones who like it, who want to be abused, like his mother, or will he be one of the ones who off themselves because they can’t take another second of it?

The door opens, and in steps the person he most wishes to see, but also dreads seeing the most. Michael stops dead, staring at him sitting there on the floor, face stained with tears, and then he sees the poster on the mirror, and his face darkens with rage. In two long strides, he’s reached the mirror and is tearing down the poster. Then he drops to his knees before Daniel and grabs his shoulders.

‘Dan,’ he says. His voice is quiet but intense. ‘You okay?’

Daniel doesn’t want to look at him. He thinks that if he does he will break down completely. So he focuses on the school emblem on Michael’s navy sweatshirt and nods.

‘Bollocks!’ Michael spits. ‘You’re about as far from okay as you were on Monday. Tell me the truth! Who did this?’ He holds up the poster. ‘Was it him? Whomever he is? Tell me!’

Daniel slowly raises his eyes to Michael’s, and as predicted begins to sob uncontrollably. Michael drops the poster and puts his arms around him. ‘Shh, it’s okay,’ he mutters. ‘I’m sorry I shouted, I’m sorry…’

Daniel clings to the fabric of Michael’s sweatshirt desperately. When he’s managed to calm down a little, Michael releases him. He studies his face. ‘Whomever’s doing this to you, you have to tell someone. It has to stop,’ he says emphatically. But Daniel only shakes his head.

‘I can’t. I can’t tell anyone, he’ll… They won’t believe me, he’ll win. And he mustn’t know you have a clue, he mustn’t know that we’re even talking, or he’ll…’ He trails off, not wanting to go there. 

In his clinging and crying, the scarf must have loosened, because now Michael is pulling it down a little. He gasps when he sees the state of Daniel’s throat.

‘Oh, God, Danny… What did he do to you?’

‘He punished me,’ Daniel mumbles. ‘For… for being friends with you. For staying the night at your place.’ He looks up at him again. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this. I shouldn’t… You need to stay away from me, Michael. Pretend you hate me because of the posters. Call me a fucking queer to your friends and, and…’

‘I’m not going to just abandon you,’ Michael says softly. ‘Not when you need me the most.’

‘This is just the beginning,’ says Daniel flatly. ‘It’s going to get much, much worse. You don’t know what he can do. He’ll… He’s going to make a website, with a naked picture of me and my phone number. He’s got video, too. He’s going to hurt me even more. He’ll never stop. He’ll hurt my mum. He might hurt you…’ _And tell you what I am, how I feel about you, and then you’ll never want to talk to me again._

‘Let him try!’

‘Don’t say that, because you don’t know what he can do. He has power… He has a lot of power.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Don’t,’ says Daniel. ‘Please, stop asking. I… I can’t tell you who he is. I just can’t.’

Michael sighs. ‘Okay,’ he says at last. ‘But, come on. Let’s get out of here.’

‘I can’t. He’ll know. He’ll see that we’re both missing and… He’ll know.’

‘Then come to my house tonight.’

‘No. He’ll know about that too. He found out about Monday. He rang my mum and she told him all about it. I can’t.’

‘Then let me come to yours.’

Daniel stares at him for a moment. ‘You… you want to come to my place?’ he mumbles. He’s sure his room can fit inside Michael’s bathroom twice. He shakes his head. ‘No, he’ll find out about that too. He’ll talk to my mum again.’

‘Well, your mum’s basically dead to the world, right?’ says Michael. ‘I’ll be quiet, I’ll stay in your room. She won’t even know I’m there.’

Daniel hesitates.

‘Come on,’ says Michael. ‘You shouldn’t be alone right now.’

Daniel takes a deep breath. Then he nods. ‘Okay,’ he says, and as he says it he’s filled with relief. He won’t be alone tonight. Michael will be with him. Michael will take care of him. He’s not alone, and this is one thing Griffiths can’t take from him. He can take his dignity and replace it with pain and despair, but he can’t take Michael, because Michael doesn’t want to be taken.

‘Okay,’ says Michael. ‘Now, they’re probably gonna want to see you about the posters, so don’t bother going to your lessons, just go to the headmaster straight away. Tell them you don’t know who did it, and then tell them you’re feeling ill and would like to be excused. I’ll text you when I finish today, and you can tell me how to get to your place. All right?’

‘Yeah,’ says Daniel, nodding. ‘That’s good. Yeah. I’ll… Thank you.’

Michael helps him to his feet. Then he hugs him, and sends him on his way.

* * *

The headmaster is not happy to just send Daniel home, and instead makes him go see the councillor. She’s a forty-something named Miss Penn, and she questions him endlessly about who bullies him (to which the only true answer is ‘nearly everyone’), and then starts asking about his home life and his frequent absences. Daniel lies as hard as he can, saying that his mother is doing much better, thank you, and there’s nothing wrong, he’s just been feeling unwell a lot lately. Sure, he occasionally dreads going to school because of the boys who bully him, but that’s not why he’s not feeling well. He just hasn’t been sleeping, and he’s had insomnia since his early childhood. It comes and goes, he says, and it’ll get better again soon.

She eventually lets him go home, and the moment he gets in, he crawls up on his bed and falls asleep, utterly exhausted.

He wakes up when Michael texts him. _Hey, you okay? Thought I’d come over now. How do I get there?_ Daniel texts him directions, and steps outside the flat, sneaking a fag from his mother’s coat pocket, to wait for him.

Michael arrives just as he’s putting out the cigarette. They enter the flat quietly, and Daniel walks ahead down the narrow corridor to his bedroom door. Neither of them speaks a word until the door is shut behind them.

‘How are you feeling?’ Michael asks, pulling him into another hug. Daniel takes a moment to breathe him in before answering. Just having him here, being so near him, is enough to make everything better for a little while, even though he realistically knows it won’t last, and even though he knows that Michael doesn’t feel the same way about him as he feels about Michael.

‘I’m okay,’ he says after a moment. ‘I slept for a bit. Feeling a little better.’

‘That’s good,’ says Michael, releasing him. He sheds his jacket and sits down on Daniel’s bed, looking around his bedroom.

‘Sorry it’s so small… And untidy,’ says Daniel.

Michael cocks an eyebrow at him. ‘What are you apologising for? Even if I did mind, which I don’t, it’s not like it’s something you can control. Now come on, sit with me.’

Daniel does. 

They spend most of the afternoon talking in hushed voices. They don’t talk about the bad stuff. Instead, they discuss movies, and music, and then they watch a light comedy on Daniel’s ancient computer. 

He cooks spaghetti for tea, bringing some into his mother’s room and then splitting the rest between himself and Michael. He never realised how hungry he was until now, and has to take care not to wolf it down and make himself sick.

When it becomes time for bed, Daniel goes to bid his mother good night. He and Michael decide to go brush their teeth and things together, so Daniel’s mother won’t hear two people go to the bathroom after one another. It’s a tight squeeze in the little bathroom, but they make it work. 

When they return to the bedroom, Daniel hesitates. ‘How are we going to do this?’ he asks, glancing at the single bed. Michael follows his gaze, then looks at him and smiles.

‘We can both squeeze in,’ he says, brightly. ‘We can go top to toe, if you like. Or just… spoon. I mean, we slept pretty close on Monday. I don’t know what you prefer…’

Daniel’s heart is pounding in his chest as he replies, ‘I… I’m good with close… It… It feels better—safer, when I’m close to you.’ The last part comes out in a rush, but Michael appears to catch it, because his smile widens. 

‘Well, then,’ he says. ‘Close it is.’

Michael strips down to his pants and gets into bed. Daniel only hesitates for a moment before doing the same, but leaving his t-shirt on. He lies down under the covers with his back against Michael’s warm chest, and Michael drapes his arm over his torso.

‘Good night, Danny.’

‘G’night.’ 

They fit so perfectly like that. It feels warm and safe and comfortable, and soon Daniel is fast asleep, no nightmares plaguing him tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> Fag -- cigarette


	7. Chapter 7

Daniel wakes up with the feel of Michael’s warm chest against his back and his slow, steady breaths tickling the back of his head near his ear. Michael still has his arm around him. It feels so good to be this near him, and Daniel’s pulse increases as he imagines Michael moving a little bit to kiss his earlobe or his neck.

It’s comforting to know that he can still feel this way about another person. That he can still want someone and picture himself in sexual situations with them even after everything he’s been through. It’s another thing that Griffiths hasn’t been able to take away from him, at least not yet. It makes him feel less hopelessly damaged.

He’s looking down at the soft, creamy skin of the arm that’s holding him when, with a jolt, he realises that they’re holding hands. He hurriedly disentangles his fingers from Michael’s. The other stirs a little behind him, the slow breaths being disrupted to emit a sleepy yawn. Daniel smiles.

‘Morning,’ he says.

‘Mm… Good morning…’ Michael murmurs in his ear. It sends a chill through Daniel’s body.

He turns over onto his back, and Michael shifts a bit, propping himself up on his elbow to give him room. His other arm remains where it is.

‘You sleep okay?’ Michael asks.

Daniel considers for a moment. ‘You know what?’ he says finally. ‘I actually did. I slept really well.’

Michael’s angelic face splits into a grin. ‘That’s good!’ he says happily. 

* * *

Griffiths makes good on his promise. The whole of that day, Daniel doesn’t see him, and he makes no attempts to contact him. At school, Michael keeps his distance, but every so often, Daniel’s mobile buzzes in his pocket with a text from his friend, asking how he’s doing or telling him about something funny that just happened. Towards the end of the day he receives a text reading, _So what are you going to do about my birthday party?_

Daniel considers. Griffiths did say to break off the friendship slowly, and it seems like everyone in years ten and eleven is invited to this party… Wouldn’t it be more suspicious not to go?

_I’ll be there,_ he texts back. 

Some minutes later, another text arrives. _And tonight? Will you be all right by yourself? I don’t like leaving you alone…_

The words make Daniel’s heart flutter. Knowing that Michael cares enough about him that he’ll think about that fills him with happiness. And he wants more than anything to spend another night next to him. Michael’s arms, the warmth of his body, make the nightmares go away. But it’s too risky. Too dangerous.

_I’ll be fine,_ he types. _I’ll see you tomorrow!_

* * *

Daniel sleeps uneasily. He wakes up several times, drenched in sweat, feeling sick and empty, tears streaming down his face. A couple of times he’s seconds from a full-on panic attack. He tries to take deep breaths and think happy thoughts.

He thinks of Michael. His eyes and his face and his arms, his smooth, muscular chest, and the warmth and comfort of being near him. It calms him enough that he can get back to sleep, at least for a little while.

He spends most of Saturday just waiting for the time to pass, so he can go to the party. So he can see Michael. He prepares a tuna pasta bake for his mother, which he covers with tin foil and sticks in the fridge. Then he bids her goodbye, saying (hoping) that he might not be back until the following day.

He doesn’t really have any money of his own, but he sneaks a fiver out of his mother’s purse and buys a birthday card for Michael on the way. Nothing fancy, just a colourful graphic of a birthday cake and the words _Happy 16_ _th_. He doesn’t dare write anything too personal in it, but settles for, _Happy birthday, Michael! Hope you’ll have a great year, and thank you for being my friend!_

He reaches the house at 6 pm. It’s clear that the party is already starting, because he can hear music blaring from the stereo before he even rings the door bell.

Liz opens the door. ‘Daniel! Hi!’ she says, and hugs him, which is unexpected but nice. ‘Come on in! Mike’s in the living room.’

Half the school seems to be there, and Liz has some friends from uni over as well. It’s a big, loud party, and Daniel feels thoroughly out of place, but Michael goes out of his way to include him in conversations and seek him out when he’s by himself. It makes him feel like a bit of a burden, but Michel doesn’t seem to see it that way. Siobhan, Amy and Deacon are there as well, and for a while he sits with them in the couch, chatting about homework and TV-shows and life. Liz and her uni friends are very nice to him too. They offer him drinks, which he gladly accepts, and after a couple of cans of beer he’s loosened up some, and finds himself actually having fun.

Siobhan asks him to dance, but he politely refuses. He doesn’t really like to dance, and there’s only one person here he would want to dance with even if he did. 

Some of the last people to arrive are Patrick and his posse. Daniel tries to stay out of their way, but he knows they’ve noticed him, and from the moment they arrive, he begins to notice people looking his way and sniggering. No doubt Patrick’s reminding everyone of the posters. They were all torn down within an hour or so, but enough people saw them. Michael told him Patrick had been called to the Head for questioning, something he’s no doubt bitter about.

It’s about 11 pm and Daniel is standing talking to Michael and a few other people, when Patrick and a couple of his friends decide to join the conversation. Daniel quietly excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

He takes longer than he needs to, spending a few minutes standing before the mirror, just staring at his reflection. It didn’t occur to him when he decided to go that his bullies would be at this party. He knows Michael won’t let anything happen to him. He’s safe in this house. And nothing they can think to do to him can possibly measure up to what’s been done to him already. But Patrick and his gang still scare him, and he’s worried about what they might try to pull while Michael isn’t looking.

He takes a deep breath and turns away from the mirror. Then he opens the door to return to the party.

Outside the door stands Patrick and three of his friends. ‘Hello, Danny,’ he says, smirking at him. ‘You want a drink?’

Before Daniel has time to make a sound, they’re forcing him back into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind them.

Patrick gives instructions, and two of his friends hold Daniel still while a third forces his head back and pinches his nose. Patrick steps up to him, a mostly full bottle of cheap vodka in his hand. He opens it, and puts it to Daniel’s lips and starts to pour. 

With his nose blocked and his head held back like that, Daniel has little choice but to swallow the strong liquid.

When nearly half is gone, Patrick relents, and Daniel coughs and splutters for a little while.

‘There you go!’ says Patrick pleasantly. ‘All good and drunk!’

Daniel sways. The room is spinning dangerously. He’s never had this much alcohol before in his life, much less all at once.

‘Strip him,’ Patrick orders his friends, and they start to pull at his clothes until he’s naked. Daniel tries to protest, tries to fight back, but he seems to have lost use of his motor functions, and can only bat weakly at the arms holding him down.

Patrick pulls a sharpie out of his pocket and they push him face first over the edge of the tub.

‘How much would you say his arse is worth, Neal?’ he asks one of his friends.

The boy apparently named Neal answers, ‘Not much. A quid per go?’ 

‘Yeah, that’ll do,’ says Patrick and begins to scribble on his arse. It mostly just tickles. ‘Here, get a picture.’ There’s the sound of a phone camera. 

Then he’s being moved again, turned around, pushed into the tub. Daniel tries to focus on the people in front of him and eventually manages to find Patrick’s face. He’s unzipping his jeans, and now he has his cock out, and Daniel wonders for a moment if he means for Daniel to suck it…

But then he takes aim, and begins to piss. The yellow stream hits Daniel square in the face. He raises his arm to shield his face, and tries to get up, but the slippery tub won’t let him and he slides back down. Patrick’s friends follow suit. Daniel covers his head and cowers. 

‘I feel like I should take a shit on him, too,’ says Patrick when they’re done, tucking his prick away inside his pants. ‘He’d probably like that, disgusting little homo… Unfortunately for you, I’m all out of bowel movements,’ he says, turning to Daniel. ‘I could wank off on you, though. Would you like that?’ His friends all laugh.

Just then, Daniel hears something outside the door. ‘Dan? Where did you go?’ Someone tries the door. ‘Dan, are you in there?’ says Michael’s voice.

Before the others have time to react, Daniel cries, ‘I’m here! Help! Help me!’

Michael doesn’t need to be asked twice, and he begins banging on the door. ‘Is someone in there with you? Open this door!’ he demands.

Patrick suddenly looks slightly panicked. It seems he hadn’t planned on being caught. A series of loud bangs follow, and then the door bursts open and Michael stumbles in, taking in the scene. He’s fairly shaking with rage as he begins to understand what’s going on.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he growls at Patrick.

‘What do you mean?’ says Patrick. ‘We’re just havin’ a little fun, right guys?’ His friends nod. Daniel says nothing. He’s beginning to feel rather sick and isn’t sure he dares open his mouth.

‘Think Dan sees it that way?’ says Michael is a deadly quiet voice. ‘Get the fuck out of my house!’

‘You don’t need to get so touchy about it, we’re just playing—’ Patrick tries, but Michael interrupts him.

‘Playing?’ he roars. ‘You are hurting my friend! Now get the bleeding hell out of here, or I’ll call the fucking police on you fucking wankers!’

Daniel doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone scarper that quickly. The moment they’re gone, Michael strides over to the tub and kneels down. ‘Dan, are you okay? Did they hurt you?’

Daniel just shakes his head. ‘I… ‘m okay, just… You shouldn’t touch me. Got pee on me…’

Michael blinks. Then his expression darkens again. ‘They _pissed on you_?’ he says quietly. ‘I’m gonna murder every last one of those fucking fucks!’

‘Michael,’ says Daniel weakly. ‘I’m okay. They… They’re gone…’

‘Yeah,’ Michael agrees. ‘None of those bastards is ever setting foot in here again.’ His expression softens. ‘Here, let me help you.’ And, though Daniel’s covered in pee, Michael puts his  arms around him and pulls him out of the tub. Daniel stands swaying while Michael finds a towel. He wipes off the worst of it, telling Daniel he can have a shower in his room. ‘Put your clothes on, I’ll be right back,’ he says, and vanishes.

When he returns a few moments later, Daniel has somehow managed to get his clothes on all right, though his shirt is unbuttoned and he has his socks in his hand. Michael puts one arm around his waist, and drapes Daniel’s arm over his shoulder, and then they leave the bathroom and start towards the stairs.

They walk in silence. The whole corridor seems to be spinning, and Daniel’s footing becomes progressively less steady. By the time they reach Michael’s room, Daniel clamps his hand over his mouth and stumbles towards the bathroom. He only misses the toilet a little bit.

Michael is there at once, soothing hand stroking his back, as he pukes up vodka and beer and crisps. 

‘You’re lucky, really,’ says Michael while Daniel wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘Better get it out now and you’ll be less hungover in the morning.’

Daniel would laugh, but he can’t seem to manage. The room is still spinning, and he tips over onto his side.

‘What did you drink?’

‘Vodka,’ Daniel mumbles. ‘Patrick… he made me drink vodka.’

‘Ouch.’

‘You… You said I was your friend,’ Daniel slurs.

‘Well, you are, silly.’

‘I know… But… but you told _them_ … And now he’ll find out… It’ll get back to him…’

‘Who?’

‘…Griffiths…’ Daniel realises too late what he’s said, and he freezes, staring straight ahead at the toilet bowl, working his mouth like a fish on land. ‘I… I mean… I mean…’

‘Griffiths?’ Michael whispers. ‘Mr. Griffiths, the PE teacher?’ He grabs Daniel’s arm and pulls him into a sitting position, trying to get eye contact. ‘Is that who’s been hurting you? Is that who… Danny, look at me!’

Daniel turns his eyes slowly on his friend. ‘No,’ he says, his voice quiet and monotonous. ‘I mean… It’s not… You can’t know this…’

‘Well, I _do_ know this!’ says Michael. ‘Just say it. Tell me the truth, Daniel.’

Daniel blinks, and unbidden tears begin to fall. ‘…Yes,’ he whispers, voice barely audible. ‘He’s the one who…’ He grabs hold of Michael’s shirt. ‘Please, Michael, you can’t tell anyone!’ he says urgently through gritted teeth. ‘He’ll… If you tell anyone, it’ll only make it worse. So… So, please. Just don’t…’ He can’t hold it in any longer and falls to pieces, his forehead falling against Michael’s chest as he sobs out his pain. Michael just puts his arms around him and holds him, stroking his hair.

‘Shh,’ he whispers. ‘It’s okay. I won’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise.’

Once Daniel has managed to calm down, Michael helps him wash the smell of piss out of his hair, and while he strips and cleans himself off, Michael goes and fetches a large t-shirt and clean pants for him to wear. Then they brush their teeth, and Michael more or less carries Daniel’s drunken self to bed. He’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.


End file.
